


Thir13en Ghosts- What Made Them

by Daughter_of_The_Storm



Category: Thir13en Ghosts (2001)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Dennis had no idea what he was getting into, Gen, Insanity, Meh, Mobs, Murder, Mutilation, Prostitution, That may change, This is How they Died, black magic, but for now there is nothing more I can do with it, crazy puritans, dead things, dumb, kids being evil, makings of a monster, seriously, the first of the Ghosts to be caught, what was he thinking?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_The_Storm/pseuds/Daughter_of_The_Storm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of Drabbles, going from the first of the Ghosts captured to the last. It gives a little more depth of insight into just what lead up to their death. I'm going off of the Ghost Files and working in a little more...History.</p><p>Abandoned work</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Born Son

Billy Michaels had been like any ten-year-old boy of his time: Obsessed with Cowboys and Indians. He played both sides of that particularly dusty field. Sometimes he was friendly to the cause of the Comanche, fighting for their land against the persecution of the White Man! Other times a Staunch supporter of the White Man’s hard earned right to the conquered Lands and spoils there in. In the end though, he sided with the wrong tribe.

Down the block a little boy named Joey Woodard was the most notorious Indian in the neighborhood. Joey had a general dislike of Billy, both in their shared world of pretend and in school, where he always seemed to come in second place to the shining little Sheriff. It wasn't until after a particularly embarrassing second place arrival for Joey that he got up the guff to Challenge Billy to a Duel. The only stipulation to the Duel was that they use weapons of Old to solve the troubles between them.

Billy brought his shiny new cap gun to the empty ball field where all of the cowboys and Indians played out their fantasy lives. Joey brought his Father’s bow and arrows. The steel tipped ones that had taken down a buck at the beginning of hunting season. They met in the middle of the field, Joey wearing his full headdress, Billy wearing a single feather, playing the white sympathizer to the cause of the Red Man. The two nodded to one another, turned back and walked Ten paces, or at least that’s how it was supposed to go. Billy didn't even get to draw his weapon when Joey Took aim and loosed the arrow from it’s string.

Billy was dead, brain matter and blood seeping slowly into the carefully manicured sand, and Joey? He just walked away, figuring it was just like the movies, and tomorrow Billy would be back at school with Nothing more than wounded pride.

Billy wasn't at school the next day. But the Police were.


	2. The Torsoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy never could turn down a bet.

For all that he had been a gambler from the start, Jimmy Gambino was not a lucky man. His Father the bookie had instilled in Jimmy the need to take every bet that landed on is table or in his books. He took long shots, short shots, sure things and even had been known to put down bets on drunken guesses about how things might end. People came to Jimmy when ever there was a fight, knowing that no matter the bet, no matter the stakes, no matter what, Jimmy could never turn them down.

There was a man, a made man, named Larry Vitello, who heard of Jimmy from his friends in the know and played with Jimmy and his odds for nearly a year before the big match came up. The match that would make Jimmy Gambino famous.

Jimmy was twenty-two when the match came up, the biggest match of the year, and Jimmy was busy for a week getting ready, pulling funds, making deals and finding himself grinning ear to ear every time a bet was laid. At the close of the week, when Jimmy was nearly full up with bets and Larry came to his door step, and placed the biggest bet Jimmy had ever seen on the long shot. Jimmy took the bet. Jimmy lost, 

Jimmy lost more than just his shirt. He fainted after the end of the fight; He woke up to the feeling of cold pain against his right arm. Larry hadn't been pleased to find that his Money wasn't coming and that Jimmy had no way to pay up. It had been a while since Larry had made and Example of anyone. He decided to make several examples of Jimmy. While Jimmy was still awake to feel it. He screamed, and begged, pleaded, even as they removed his feet and legs, He begged until he lost too much blood, until they put the saw to his throat.

The only thing Larry thought as they were plastic wrapping Jimmy’s corpse was that he was going to need new shoes for his sister’s wedding, as Jimmy had made quite a mess on his way out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one day, this probably won't happen often, though I will try to make updates as often as I can.


	3. The Bound Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of heart break never hurt anyone, Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I got a new computer and lost some of my old work! I'll be working on the Withered Lover's Chapter soon!

Susan LeGrow had been born to one of the most prestigious families in the over warm, sweet smelling south land of Mississippi. She was beautiful, and sweet tempered as a child and grew into a fine and lovely young woman. She was popular and intelligent, and lucky in all sorts of ways. She was the first girl to get a car all her own in her class, a Beautiful classic Mustang, powder blue and all the rage among her friends. With the Boys, too, Susan seemed to have all the luck.

The boys of her class couldn't resist her, ever since she'd begun to fill out there had been a string of them following her around and practically throwing themselves at her feet. Growing up the way she did, one thing easily replaced by the next best one that appeared, she often began toying with the next boy in her line before she left the last in the dust. 

When she was a senior, she met the man who would be her match. She could feel it in her bones. 

Chet Walters was the star of the football team and was perfect in every way for Susan. His family was wealthy and he was a well heeled boy. His dark hair and distinguished features made him so very pleasant to look at and he spoke to her in the sort of genteel manor that she had always expected of her future husband.

They went steady for the entirety of that last year of High School, Susan keeping herself in line, ignoring other boys...until Prom rolled around. She thought it would be a good idea, some jealousy to get her Darling hot under the collar. She pulled James Fenwick into the auditorium and Chet found them there, James draped all over her, and her hands buried in his hair.

She'd pulled away from James, expecting harsh words to fly. Instead, it was a baseball bat, being used in the spring play. James never stood a chance. The last thing Susan saw was the enraged face of her beloved Chet. The last thing she felt the smooth silk of his silver blue tie against her throat. 

When they found her under the Fifty Yard Line three weeks later, the police couldn't help but think how well the ligature matched her shining, taffeta dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again! So sorry this took so long. I Had no intention to lead anyone on who was enjoying this! These may be edited some day, or made into one cohisive fic....that would be interesting....ANYWAY, Feel free to leave comments if you have any suggestions! Ta for now Loves~


	4. The Withered Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean loved her Family.

The Withered Lover

Her name was Jean. She was beautiful and loving and kind. Her heart was huge. Big enough for her neurotic husband, Arthur, and her somewhat remarkable children, Kathy and Bobby. Her family was her life. She doted upon them, and gave to them all the love they could stand and more. She left her position at a firm when she found out she was pregnant with Kathy and from that day forward lived at home. Making the house in which they lived warm and welcoming for all who came to its doors.

When the children were older, Kathy fifteen and Bobby nearly ten, true to her family tradition, as soon as the Thanksgiving turkey was carefully put away in the ice box, Christmas exploded in the Kriticose house. 

There were garlands around the windows, a Tree, sitting decorated in the living room, near the fire. There are wreaths on all the doors and stockings hung where they belong. The house smelled perpetually of baking and food. Cinnamon, apples, cloven oranges and bread touched every hall, every room.

They had their holiday.

Their cheer and their stories told by the fire.

They had their movies and the reading of “A Christmas Carrol” performed by Arthur.

It was tradition.

On Christmas Eve, everyone was tucked away. Everyone was silent, and at peace.

But there was trouble. In the night. The fire, which had crackled heartily and cheerfully for them before bed, was unrested. Unstable. A crumbling cinder caused a flaming avalanche. And a log, much less than it had been when it had been placed, rolled out, past the edge of the tile, past the green of their living room floor. 

The sparks caught the thick Persian rug.

The rug caught the tree.

The tree caught the ceiling and the alarms went off.

In her bed, waking to the resounding siren, Jean knew.

She woke her husband, told him to get the kids. Demanded their safety while she went for the lock box in the closet. Everything was in there. Birth certificates, insurance papers. 

While she crouched in the half-light between the soft coats. She felt it. The cold gust of air when the window broke behind her. Like Death, tapping her on the shoulder. 

She turned.

The fire Roared.  
Jean found the dark easy to embrace. She had known. When the alarm screeched. She had known.

What she hadn’t know, was horrific.

After her brief respite in that cool, black nothing. She was ripped away. Torn back into the world by a sad looking man, with clear blue eyes and pain written on his heart. 

His pain became hers. Or perhaps it had been her pain all along. 

She screamed. 

All she had wanted was a Christmas, a good Christmas with her children. With her husband. 

All she had wanted was for them to know they were loved.


	5. The Torn Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Royce Clayton was going places...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am awful at updates, and to those of you who have stuck around to see this through, I thank you. The last year has been very helterskelter for me, and I have had no time to work on personal projects. With Halloween on the way, though, I made time to give this to you! I will hopefully be working through the next chapters quickly. Stick around! We're not quite finished yet.

When he was born, Royce Clayton was the light of his parent’s lives. An only child he was well provided for, loved endlessly and perhaps a little spoiled. But no more than any other only child.

He was beautiful to look at, dark brown eyes, and black hair. As he grew up, he gained the attention of many young women. There were more girls hanging off his leather jacket by the time he was in High School, when he made the varsity baseball team.

In baseball his superiority complex was well enough founded. He was the best the school had ever seen, the best the state had ever seen, and colleges lined up to offer him positions at their schools, on their teams, to make them the best teams in the country. Royce laughed with ever offer. Took them all in and he and his parents toyed with the ideas, planned which one to accept.

They chose Stanford. Far and away from the small town where they lived.

A place where Royce’s other passion would have even more room to grow, to become the great man that everyone in their little town knew he could become.  
It all came to a bloody end, one day, early in October 1958.

Royce was 18. He knew he was the best of the best, at any and everything he did. From baseball, to dancing, to driving. 

Next to baseball it was his favorite thing to do; Roll the windows down, turn the rock and roll up and drive down the winding roads of his home town.

He was so good that Donnie Parks, the head of the local greaser gang, took notice.

Donnie had always come second to Royce’s first. If Royce got an A in math, Donnie got a B. If Royce made varsity, Donnie was a backup. If Royce’s parents got him the newest car on the lot, Donnie’s got him a car one model year older.

It had always chafed at him. 

So when he heard Royce was going to Stanford, he knew he only had one more chance to be better than Royce at anything; he’d go to any lengths to best him.

So the challenge was laid. One day, after school. A race for pink slips at the hill top lanes, winner take all.

Royce accepted. He had never lost, there was no way he could lose, not to Donnie Parks.

But Donnie was done playing fair.

Before the Race, when Royce was getting a good luck kiss from his girl Mary, Donnie put a nick in the break line.

The race started, Royce was winning, coming round the last turn he felt like he was flying…  
Then the world turned upside down. The car took the turn too fast, flipped, crashed and burned, all with Royce inside.

Donnie won, was arrested and put in prison.

Royce was collected by his parents, and buried in a plot above his beloved baseball diamond. For years, people said they’d see a young man, dressed in a battered and torn leather jacket, standing on that hill watching the games. 

Some said they heard him cheer. Others …well, they said it wasn’t cheering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, The Angry Princess. Stay tuned for Updates my lovelies~


End file.
